


How It Really Goes

by slightlyjillian



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-18
Updated: 2010-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:33:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyjillian/pseuds/slightlyjillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sylvia finds a difficult decision is easier to make when encouraged by a new friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How It Really Goes

"All I want to do is sign these papers and be done with it," Sylvia whispered. Her fingers trembled along side the manila envelope postmarked some several weeks prior. She leaned so that the umbrella no longer prevented the sun from striking her eyes and she blinked away tears.

She should have worn a jacket, but everyone else, like her, was too eager to enjoy the first warm weather of spring although in the fall no one would have considered the temperature _warm._ Most of the outdoor seats had been taken by people reading newspapers and sipping their espresso. One table was busy chattering about some business project, eight chairs tight around the tiny table.

Sylvia was alone. Or at least she was until a different shadow passed in front of her face.

"Is this seat taken?" The stranger pulled the chair back with a horrible sound of metal scratching along concrete. "I hope you don't mind." He sat down, looked around briefly, set down his steaming paper cup and briefly nodded at her with a toss of his dark curls.

"Sure, I was just..." Sylvia paused to compose herself and set her hands on the table to push away.

"Crying?" the man observed. "Oh, I'm sorry... I'll just, ah..."

"No, no. I'm fine. How it goes..." An aggressive sniff cleared her nose and she swiftly rubbed her fingers along her cheeks.

"Ah, you've got something, just there..." The man pointed. She took two attempts to fix whatever make-up error her tears had caused, trying to gauge her success from his reactions. Then forgetting herself, Sylvia laughed.

"What?" the man asked, smiling half-way as if worried she might suddenly cry again but also pleased to see her demeanor changing.

"Your face," she replied, aware of the confusion that caused but she couldn't say more for another, somewhat hysterical, fit of silent laughter.

He took a drink and showed her the white of his eyes. Swallowing, he fixed an assertive gaze on her, "Now this was the face I was born with. Problems should go to my dear mother, but seeing as she's departed for the other side of the pond you might have to wait months for a response."

Sylvia smiled, but her laughter stopped. "Months to reply." She rubbed her sore nose. "See that's my problem. I've got my divorce papers here. I've had them for months now, and... I just need to send them back."

The man took another drink to cover for a calculated response. "You deserve better than whoever bought you that ring," he said, finally.

"Thanks." Sylvia gently twisted the modest diamond into place. "It was enough at the time. It was good. Enough." She choked over a lingering lump in her throat.

"Oh God, I'm sorry..." He scrambled to offer her one of the napkins he'd brought from inside.

"I'm fine," she swallowed again. "Just something here." She tapped her throat and the man went cross-eyed briefly.

They sat quietly. The man watched street traffic and Sylvia watched him. He had a rather nondescript way about his face. Normal jaw, normal nose, dark eyes and then the most expressive dark brows that seemed to hold entire conversations of their own.

"Nothing is going to change if I sign these or not," she finally broke the silence. He grunted, but not in a way leading her to think he wasn't interest in hearing more. She continued, "It's just that I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do when it's finished. What happens next?"

"What did you do before?" he asked quickly, then looked away again as a tall woman brushed by their table. Sylvia realized that meant another table had opened up and she tilted her head. He shrugged, "I can move. Or I can listen. I'm just killing an hour or so while my car is getting worked on."

"I've got an hour. I'm Sylvia," she offered her hand. She might have been offering more, but her hand seemed to convey exactly what he could accept. "Pleased to meet you."

"Pleased to meet _you_," he reciprocated. "Nichol. Jimmy Nichol." Letting loose of her fingers, he reached into his back pocket. "Can I get you another... what was that?"

"Just a coffee," she conceded with a tip of her head.

"Alright then." The chair scraped as Nichol stood up and took a step back toward the shop. "Maybe have those signed by the time I get back? I save my best flirting for single women."

Sylvia hesitated, letting anxiety and no small measure of terror hold her eyes open. Nichol's brows knotted together over his nose.

"Yes," she blurted out. "I will. Take the coffee, have this signed, and flirt. That sounds good..."

He motioned at her with his wallet one time, but stopped before saying anything. Then he leaned in and wiped his thumb along her cheekbone. "Better now. And it's a date."


End file.
